DreamsI've been keeping a dream journal on a special Twitter account since I was 23 years old. You can read these raw forms, if you'd like: @IHadaDreamWhere. I'm going to be adapting 99 of them as microstories.

Saturdays (mezzofiction)

Missy’s MissionWith the help of a friend, a young woman searches a rogue planet for the rumored means of getting rid of her special time powers, since having them puts her in the crosshairs of a psychotic time traveling killer.

My name is Nick Fisherman III. It's not my real name, but that's not because I'm trying to hide from my former agency, or something. I named myself after someone I've known for most of my life, and he chose it in honor of his late best friend. I took up writing when I found myself failing 8th grade science, and realized I might never reach my dream of becoming a biochemist, a meteorologist, and a quantum physicist. I started developing my canon after a scouting trip to an island inspired what I thought would be my first novel. I founded this website upon the advice of many people, who told me I needed to get my work out there, and not wait for an agent to accept my manuscript. You can expect one new story every day. Weekdays are for microstories, which are one or two paragraphs long. They're usually only thematically linked, so you won't have to read one to understand another, but they do sometimes tell a combined story. Sundays are for my continuous longer story, The Advancement of Leona Matic, which I started in the beginning, and won't end until 2066. Saturdays are for long series, most of which take place in the same universe as Leona, and add to the larger mythology.

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Microstory 738: Credos, Convention Ten: Congeniality, Chapter One

The small town had but one physician. This physician hated everybody, but put up with them, because he had a monopoly on the market. Since he was the only medical professional around, he knew he could do whatever he wanted with his patients. He could charge whatever he wanted, lazily prescribe medication, or even refuse to see them at all, if he just didn’t feel like it. Everyone hated him back, but of course, there was little they could do about it. Though there were other physicians in the region, they had struck secret deals with each other, to prevent any one of them from gaining an edge over the others. Plus, traveling to these other towns was often not worth the trouble. Though no one was outwardly racist, citizens of the other towns tended to be rather opposed to visitors. One day, the rude physician fell ill himself, but was unable to carry out his own treatment. He tried to self-medicate, but nothing was working. He would have to go far away to find a peer, but he was in no condition to operate a vehicle. He started stumbling around town, asking people for transport, but no one was nice enough to agree. He contacted other physicians, asking them to come to him instead, but they all rejected him. It was the rude physician’s idea to unethically keep prices high, and not compete with each other, and this was causing them their own problems. No one wanted to help, and the rude physician eventually wandered into the woods, and died.